


Wednesdays Are Not Zen Days

by lotusk



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Library, Attempt at Humor, Awkward Crush, College, Crushes, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Jongin in Glasses, Librarian Sehun, M/M, Scary Soo, Shy Sehun, Shyness, Studious Jongin, University
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 16:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5298488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lotusk/pseuds/lotusk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>College librarian Sehun keeps dropping the books he's supposed to be shelving. Jongin has an essay due and he needs Sehun TO STOP. Library!au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wednesdays Are Not Zen Days

Swallowing nervously, Sehun brushed his palms on his jeans. He hated that his entire being was tied up in knots, but it couldn't be helped. Twenty minutes ago, his co-worker and college mate Yixing had cheerfully informed him that he'd been assigned with shelving duty tonight. Thinking he was delivering good news, Yixing had scratched the back of his head in confusion when Sehun had responded to the news with panic and frantic pleas to find someone else. 

“Sorry, man. Everyone else will be at the Student Union screening of _Dracula Untold_. You're out of luck.”

“Can't you do the shelving? Let’s swap. Come on, Xing, help a guy out?” Sehun wasn't exactly begging. _Yet_. . .but he sounded pretty damned desperate.

“You know I'd swap with you in a heartbeat but I'm not working tonight— _and_ I'll be at the Student Union with the rest of the guys and Jia. Um. . .good luck persuading Kyungsoo to switch?” Yixing gave him a sympathetic look.

“Shit, not Kyungsoo sunbae!” Sehun groaned. There would be no way out now.

“Yeahhh. My condolences, dude. But I don't get it. You’re always going about how you like shelving and it makes you all zen. Like. . .?”

“It normally does. But Wednesday nights are—” Sehun dragged his palm over his face before continuing, “Wednesdays are not zen days. Maybe I'll tell you why one day, but don't hold your breath.”

“Well, good luck? I don't mean to ditch you but I'm taking Jia for dinner before we head for the movie,” Yixing said as he swung his backpack over left shoulder. 

“Have fun.” Sehun tried to sound cheerful but failed. Spectacularly.

Of course he had to be on duty with the most intimidating senior on campus. Sehun was convinced that Do Kyungsoo didn't just look borderline psychotic, he actually _was_ psychotic. He pictured Kyungsoo’s piercing stare in his mind and shuddered a little. Groaning inwardly, he came to terms with the fact that he would just have to suck it the fuck up and push that sorting cart around the library like a boss. 

(And he absolutely would not drop a single book or trip over his own feet when he had to pass by the carrel situated right next to the stacks for 820— _British literature in English_.)

Why did he always sit in the same place, anyway? It happened to be a spot Sehun could monitor from the service desk (which was where Sehun was usually stationed on Wednesday nights). Directly in his line of vision, fuck his life. It was a mystery to himself how he managed to check out books and process library fines and charges with all that distraction a mere glance away.

Sehun loved shelving duty—loved pulling the books off the trolley and sliding them onto their correct slots on the stacks. He always slid the volumes in with a quiet, smooth efficiency that gave him a sense of pride. On any other night of the week, he would have greeted Yixing’s news with a grateful smile, but today was Wednesday. Kim Jongin always studied on this floor on Wednesday nights. No one could shatter Sehun’s equilibrium the way Kim Jongin could.

They'd been in the same Contemporary English course for six weeks now, and Sehun usually tried to grab a seat near Jongin so he could take surreptitious glances at him while Dr. Haskell had Jongin’s rapt attention. It didn't matter whether the topic was literary devices or character development, authorial voice or even plot, Jongin’s eyes were always trained on the tutor. 

Dr. Haskell had the kind of pudgy body one cultivated from spending too much time indoors—wedged between the pages of a book or bent over a keyboard. His mind was toned and fit, though, and he was an animated speaker who kept the classroom discussion stimulating and thought-provoking. Sehun told himself that he really needed to spend more time listening to what the man had to say, and less time watching Kim Jongin listen to what the man had to say. 

But. . .Jongin. 

They'd spoken a few times—Jongin being casual and friendly in a quiet kind of way, a smile lingering in his dark chocolate eyes as his (gorgeous) mouth formed the words. Their exchanges hadn't been anything special but that hadn't stopped Sehun's hands from going cold and his chest from buzzing with a peculiar mixture of hope, excitement and dread. 

 

_Hi, Sehun, right? Do you have the time?_

_Have you read any other books by Margaret Atwood?_

_Sehun, can I borrow a pen? Please?_

_Which essay question did you pick?_

 

Just. . .mundane things, but Sehun’s poor little heart had flopped and wheezed during each brief conversation they shared. As he drowned in the depths of Jongin's dark eyes, he imagined kissing that sexy half smile off his plush mouth. Or Jongin could kiss the worried frown off his mouth—Sehun wasn't particular as long as there was some kissing going on.

 _If only_ , he sighed as he walked past the corner carrel near the 820 section.

In his peripheral vision, Jongin was blowing the fringe out of his eyelashes. His right hand was feverishly scribbling notes while his left traced lines of text on the parchment colored pages of a heavy looking book. Jongin really had the most beautiful jaw. Square, masculine and—

 _Thunk_. Sehun's knee struck the book cart and he yelped in pain. Jongin’s head whipped up at the interruption, his expression confused and his eyes, unfocused.

“Sehun?”

“Sorry. . .I. . .yeah,” Sehun apologized sheepishly before scurrying off to the stacks, his book cart (and his pride) trundling along behind him. Swiping his fringe off his forehead and pushing his glasses up, Jongin blinked a few times before turning back to his books and papers. Fine lines furrowed his forehead and Sehun wondered what he was working on that had him so tense. 

But anyway, he had no time to waste on wondering—he had books to return to their proper homes. At least that was what Sehun told himself, but his eyes kept straying towards the golden-skinned young man in the distance despite all his good intentions. A compass needle drawn to magnetic North. Sehun didn't want to be a compass needle anymore.

 _So frustrating_ , Sehun thought as he shoved a copy of Thackeray’s _Vanity Fair_ at an empty space he'd created between Walter Scott’s _Waverley_ and Thackeray’s _The Book of Snobs_. 

_Thud._

He should have had his eyes on the books but Jongin was doing that thing again, where he pushed his hair off his forehead. It was deeply distracting and it really wasn't Sehun’s fault that _Vanity Fair_ collided with _The Book of Snobs_. Bending over to pick up the battered tome with its fraying fabric cover, Sehun whispered an apology to Thackeray and snuck a peek at Jongin. To his horror, the object of his affections was frowning at him. Their eyes met for a microsecond, and then Sehun was turning away and standing up in short, jerky movements.

More than anything, he wished he could turn himself into a book and hide on a shelf in some far flung corner of the library (preferably on a different floor altogether). Tragically, Sehun had no such powers of sorcery. So he pushed the book cart away—eyes angled towards the floor as he got out of the aisle as fast as he could. Keeping his eyes ahead, Sehun gave a sigh of pure agitation before proceeding to marinate in shamed silence.

 

 

_It seemed as though he gave way all at once; he was so languid that he could not control his thoughts; they would wander to her; they would bring back the scene,—not of his repulse and rejection the day before but the looks, the actions of the day before that. He went along the crowded streets mechanically, winding in and out among the people, but never seeing them,—almost sick with longing for that one half-hour-that one brief space of time when she clung to him, and her heart beat against his—to come once again._

Jongin began to read the passage a third time, but he just couldn't settle. Much like Mr. Thornton who found his thoughts wandering back to Margaret, Jongin found his thoughts wandering back to the boy hidden in the maze of books nearby. He was tall and shy and all awkward smiles and bony limbs. Oh Sehun always looked ever so slightly startled when Jongin spoke to him. It was. . .very endearing. 

He liked how his eyes weren't large and yet they seemed to hold worlds within them—hinting at whispered secrets and stolen smiles. Jongin felt more and more like he needed to decode the mystery of Oh Sehun. 

If it were any other night, Jongin would seriously have considered walking over to the stacks. He might start off by asking him where he could find _The Nietzsche Reader_ (Sehun didn't need to know that Jongin already had a much-read copy of it on his shelf at home). From there, he would move on to asking Sehun questions about himself. Jongin had a feeling he would have to do a lot of the asking to begin with, because the boy was so quiet and jittery around him. 

Yes, he would get to know Sehun soon. But not tonight. Tonight, he had to work his ass off on that essay on gazing and courtship in _North and South_. It was due in two days and he was nowhere near done. Sighing, he turned his attention back to the text and to his notepad. Forcing all thoughts of Sehun out of his head, he reread the passage. . .for the fourth fricking time. 

The threads of his argument were starting to come together as he forced himself to focus. Soon, he was completely engrossed; Jongin had always been capable of intense absorption when it came to work. He'd been writing for almost ten minutes when the sound of something hitting the floor scattered his concentration. Irritated, he looked up and saw. . .a boy’s long-legged body bent over as he scooped a book up from the floor. 

Sehun's bottom lip jutted out a bit—like he was annoyed with himself. His lips really were the most impossibly pretty shade of pink. Jongin should know because he spent enough time staring at Sehun's lips each time they spoke. There was something about the boy’s quiet gaze and the way his serious brown eyes contrasted with his sensual lips that drove Jongin to distraction. He really needed to stop stalling and just ask the boy o— 

But Jongin never finished that thought as he realized Sehun was looking back at him. For just a few moments, their gazes locked. Then Sehun was turning away and standing up—the brief connection severed. Before Jongin had a chance to smile or react, Sehun was gone.

The legs of the chair made a muted scrape on the utilitarian, steel gray carpet as Jongin stood up abruptly. He’d taken three steps in the direction of the stacks before he stopped. 

_What the hell are you doing? There’s no time for this today. Not today_ , he chided himself. He was so tempted to go after Sehun and talk to him. . .but Mr. Thornton and Margaret were clamoring noisily for attention. 

_Want versus responsibility. And responsibility would have to win this battle because of the stupid deadline. Responsibility sucked._

Making a frustrated noise, he turned around and started walking back to his carrel. Sometimes, Jongin really hated the fact that he cared so much about maintaining a 4.0 grade point average. 

 

 

Sehun was shifting some books to the left when a hushed, deep voice called his name, making him jump. Two hardcover books cascaded off the shelf and by some miracle Sehun managed to catch them before they made impact with the floor. 

“You've been dropping things all night. What the hell is up with you?” Kyungsoo was giving him an appraising stare that made him squirm. His penetrating eyes seemed to squirrel out every one of Sehun's secrets.

“I. . .um. . .didn't get much sleep last night. So my hand and eye coordination is all. . .y'know, shit today,” Sehun muttered evasively.

“Oh really?” Kyungsoo retorted. “Well, try your best not to empty the entire contents of the Brit Lit section onto the floor.”

“Sunbae! I wouldn't,” Sehun protested.

“Whatever,” Kyungsoo said with a sceptical look. “Anyway, that's not why I'm here. Minseok called from level 5. They need help—some glitch with the scanners. Probably take ten minutes max. So keep an eye on the service counter. But it's hella quiet tonight. You should be okay on your own.”

“Sure thing. And good luck.” 

But Do Kyungsoo's back was already moving away from him as the older man took quick, efficient strides towards the nearest staircase. It suddenly sank in that he was on his own. That did not freak him out at all, Sehun thought, as he peeked through the stacks at Jongin. Then the book cart swayed as it went over a wrinkle in the carpet and books started diving onto the floor before Sehun could do anything. 

_Dammit! Can this night get any worse? He must think I am such a loser not to mention the biggest klutz the world has ever known!_

Sehun’s hands gripped the edge of a shelf as he shut his eyes and tried to collect himself. He didn’t even want to think about the untidy ocean of books on the floor. It would take him half the night to pick all those books off of the floor, he thought bitterly. He shut his eyes even tighter at the thought—like the mess would somehow vanish like magic when he opened his eyes again.

He was just about to open his eyes when he heard a _thwack_. Eyes jerking wide open, Sehun saw an arm stretched out beside him—palm splayed over some book spines. Whoever it was, he was standing right behind him and had him caged in. Almost.

He'd know those long, slender fingers and that healthy, golden skin anywhere. Sehun swallowed nervously; his gut was clenching and unclenching, and his heartbeat was roaring in his ears. He'd never been this close to Kim Jongin and he didn't know what to do. 

“I need you to stop making so much noise,” Jongin said in a very firm voice. He was so close now that waves of moist heat were lapping at Sehun’s ear. Jongin’s body wasn’t touching his, but it might as well have been, his skin was tingling with that much awareness and hot sensation. It was taking every ounce of Sehun’s self-control not to take a step back and lean into Jongin—to hell with the consequences. 

“I'm sorry I disturbed you,” Sehun finally managed to say after a few seconds, even though his knees felt like they about to give way. He waited for Jongin to remove his arm but for whatever reason, he wasn’t doing it. He could just. . .move to the left and he would no longer be trapped by Jongin. All he had to do was take maybe three steps to the left and he would be free. _Free_. Except—

—instead of stepping away from him, Sehun turned around and faced his crush. 

 

 

 _All that pink_. All that pink was making Jongin dizzy—Sehun’s lips were just inches away and he was suddenly consumed with the need to taste them. Would they be salty or sweet, he wondered. And then it didn’t even fucking matter as Sehun licked his lips—leaving the surface glistening and pink and irresistible. Margaret and Mr. Thornton would just have to wait, Jongin thought as his hands reached up and cupped Sehun’s jaw.

“Tell me to stop,” Jongin whispered, the tip of his nose grazing Sehun’s cheek gently. He smelt like bergamot and clean, male skin. Jongin hoped he wouldn’t say _stop_ but he was prepared to withdraw and step away if he did. Sehun’s eyes weren’t giving anything away. They were gray storms of—Jongin wasn’t sure—passion? Indecision? Anxiety? 

In the end, Sehun didn’t say anything. He just leaned further into Jongin’s hands and kissed him—his mouth applying a firm, sweet pressure. A soft, almost inaudible moan escaped Jongin's mouth as he kissed Sehun back, his palm circling the other boy’s nape, relishing the warm skin beneath his fingers. When his tongue slipped into Sehun’s mouth, strong hands gripped his waist and pulled him closer. Breaths mingling as their mouths met—pliant and eager—Jongin sighed as he let himself drown in the sensations. 

Kissing Sehun was so much better than yearning to kiss him. So much better. 

Jongin’s hands were sliding across Sehun’s back, over smooth, thin cotton when he heard _it_ : the unmistakable sound of someone clearing their throat. Loudly and deliberately. Breathing heavily, their arms dropped sharply to their sides and they moved apart. 

“Kyungsoo sunbae!” Sehun’s voice was tinged with mild panic and his cheeks were two guilty flags of red.

“I thought I specifically asked you _not to_ empty the contents of the stacks onto the floor?” Kyungsoo asked, raising a sardonic eyebrow at the messy pile of tomes heaped onto the floor.

“It was an accident, I swear!” Sehun offered hastily as he stuck his hands inside his jeans pocket. 

“I’m sure that kiss was an accident too,” Kyungsoo muttered beneath his breath and Sehun looked like he wanted to die. Jongin felt sorry for him but at the same time, not a single part of him regretted the kiss. 

“It was my fault,” Jongin declared before insisting that he would help Sehun to clean up the mess. 

“Yes, do that. And be as quiet as possible. Also? Don’t _ever_ kiss where I can see you.” 

“But sunbae,” Sehun said weakly.

“I _do not_ want to know, Oh Sehun. Just make sure I never have to see you kissing anyone. Ever again.”

“I—sure.”

Kyungsoo was already halfway to the service desk when Jongin pulled Sehun behind some stacks. 

“I’ve got an essay due in two days which I absolutely have to finish so. . .I can’t do anything about… _this_ till it’s done.”

“Okay.” Sehun sounded quiet and disappointed.

“But I was thinking. . .we could walk back home together. If that’s okay with you?”

“I’d really like that, Jongin.” Sehun smiled shyly, and then Jongin kissed his smile right off his lips.

“I CAN STILL SEE YOU,” Kyungsoo hissed in menacing tones and the boys stole one more kiss before getting down on their knees to tackle the mess.


End file.
